Creak
by Maverick Wallace
Summary: We are desensitized. Shove comfort up my nose.
1. Likeable

**Legal Disclaimer: God damn it, WE DON'T OWN THIS SHIT, AND FOR THE LAST TIME, WE DON'T HAVE A FUCKING PHONE.**

**Legal Disclaimer 2: This is all mine. You can kiss my balls if you disagree with this fact. (all lawsuits should be directed to Sir cornwallace McThathle (III)(of The Holy Empire of McFranken) and all checks should be made out to Maverick Wallace. Donations appreciated.)**

* * *

**Creak**

**Chapter 1: Likeable**

* * *

Two walk girls walk by, it takes a second for one to notice the other. I've noticed them the last couple of months.

Near a back alley, they don't see me on this fire escape.

Watch them and pick. Play God, and roll the dice, Russian roulette on a wheel where I've placed every chip on every number; I always win.

They've started talking and I already got me a winner.

The victor gets the spoils, those hot sticky spoils.

"Oh hey! You! Cream it's been so long!"

"Hi Rouge!"

Hugging, how fucking sweet this is, how enamored I am.

"How's Tails treating ya?"

"Good. Like always. He's such a hopeless romantic!"

"Really now!?"

"Kissing in the rain, flowers for no reason…a really sweet guy….What about you? How's Knuckles doing?"

"Really into his job, we don't see each other as much as we want to, but he makes up for it…if you know what I mean!"

Wink Rouge. Keep doing that shit. They both keep laughing, sugar laced and loud.

Rivet. Rivet. Rivet.

Stroke myself again. Nice and slow. Shaky breaths just shaken enough.

"Knuckles doesn't seem like _that_ kind of person Rouge!"

"Baby, he never got out much on Angel Island! He's a freak, and he'll do whatever I want."

"I envy that."

Don't we all Cream? People don't like doing what I want, ever.

"At least Tails does silly things to surprise you! Knuckles is one-dimensional!"

"At least we're better off than Amy!"

"Tell me about it Cream! Girl messed around with Sonic, and I told her to stay back! But nnnnnnoooooooooo! She played with fire and got burned, oh so burned!"

I like fires. Hot and uncontrollable.

"Is she out of rehab yet?"

"Working on it. She's doing better, but I only visit her out of pity. That and she calls me all the time!"

"Well hopefully she'll get out soon and she'll be out of your hair! I don't think I could take that kind of stuff from her."

Can we wrap this up ladies? Please? Pretty please with arsenic and razor blades on top? Heh. Or me on top.

"I make it worse than it sounds Cream. Things really aren't that bad."

Quiet. The rabbit kindly sighs.

"We have great guys don't we?"

"Best in the world, to do anything for us! Can't get better than that!"

The bat checks her watch. Time to go. Didn't catch her excuse though, but I got mine.

"Well Rouge it was nice seeing you again! Let's catch up some time later. Maybe for coffee or nails?"

"I'd love to. Call you soon honey!"

"Bye!"

Finally, I've been following her forever. How long does it take to buy fucking shoes? Let me guess, she just had to have them! Do they compliment the earrings and the dress? These are the kind of people that drive me; the ones who actually care about other people. Dad said to put yourself first. Good advice father, because that's exactly what I'm doing.

I've learned to flicker the light switch, but it didn't satisfy me. You can't leave it on because that will piss off the electric company and then the light is turned off forever. THE LIGHT SHOULD NEVER BE TURNED OFF.

Found a way to keep it on though. Took a year of ideas, drawings, and dreams, but I found a way.

The light won't ever go out now.

Jump to the next building, two flights of stairs meet the rooftop, dash to the other end. She's still there, walking her slow little way home. Left foot, right foot, a designer handbag, yellow dress, and a pink thong clearly seen. Warm air and the sweat rolling down my face, and stroking just a little more; tasty. A couple of minutes and she couldn't walk any slower! ARGH. Hurry up and get home, you stupid cunt.

Games never should take this long to complete! Efficiency is how you play this fucker! And the bitch is holding me back?! Her mind is oblivious to me! She'll be mine and mine and mine and moan and mine and moan a little longer! Yes this is what it takes! Do you feel numb yet?! I'll make it easy on you! Understand where I'm coming from baby. NO! I SAID SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SILENCE! FUCK! STOP MOVING YOU'RE MAKING THIS HARD! Take the bedside lamp and slam her face in. Crunch, crunch, lick, lick; gulp. Bitter. Satisfying. My hand is stuffed crassly down the front of my pants.

Silence…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………exhale exhale exhale………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… ………………… ………………………………………… ……………………………… ………………………………… …………………

Calm down! Calm down! Stop thinking about it. Follow her.

She'll be there soon!

* * *

It's been a long day. Fucking customers, you know? Work wouldn't be such shit without all the fucking people, I tell you. "I need to return this laptop that I bought five years ago! And if you don't let me return it, I'll call the corporate office and get you fired!" Station Square has the worst people who have ever existed.

At least I'll get to see Cream in a little while. Hm. I'll snag a bottle of wine on the way home, then we can finish where we left off.

Heh.

Stumble for my keys in my Khaki pocket and…

Holy shit! What the fuck!!

My car is on fire! COMPLETELY ON FIRE! Fucking hell! Who would….? why……? how….? when….? what now!? God damn it!

Told Cream I didn't want a cell phone. Heh, she told me I'd need in case of an emergency.

I think by a close margin this qualifies.

I know I pissed off some customers today, but my car!?

Looks like things just got a little messy.

Better call Cream and tell her the news.

But I'll call the police first.

* * *

Even when she turns the lock to a door, it's sexy. Her room is near the elevator, fifth floor, room 5223. I've been here plenty of times, but with that in mind, how should I get in? That said I've got an idea. If you knew me, you'd know I have plenty of them.

Acting time.

"Cream! Hey! How are you?"

A fast turnaround and we make eye contact. Chocolate brown meets forest green. I smell her hesitation emanating, along with a daffodil perfume. Flowers. I love flowers.

"Do I know you?"

My black t-shirt and jeans look a little imposing; a creepy Goth fifteen year old is who I look like.

"Sure! We were in the Sonic Heroes picture together! Remember?"

What's funny is that we really were. We've met, but it's been about five years, it's almost perfect that she doesn't recognize me.

"Yeah…I remember now!"

Fucking lying bitch. I don't need your pathetic upper class voice condescending me! Ugh. Maintain composure you moron. You'll have to get a little bit closer for this to work.

"Yeah, see I live a couple of floors down, and I was wondering if you had any plumbing equipment? My toilet just broke down."

"Well…Tails does keep some under the sink."

She looks worried. Makes sense. I came out of nowhere. It's time to dissolve those tricky little suspicions. I frown for her.

"Look Cream, I'm sorry. I shouldn't even have come up here. I'll go buy some somewhere. Sorry to disturb you like this."

I turn to walk away. Her guilt should be setting in right now.

"No it's okay! I'll go get them! Just hold on a second!"

Somewhere throughout my life, I heard the saying "death comes on swift wings". Couldn't be more apparent here because I'm in her living room already, she's in the kitchen, and I am completely undetected. Hiding behind this doorway, I'll strike her and bring her down. It won't be hard.

BRRRRRIIIINNNNGGGG!! BRRRRRRIIIINNNNGGGGG!

The phone is ringing. It's Tails calling about his car. You'd be surprised at how fast I can get around town. I still got the pack of matches in my pocket. This place is nice. Beige, striped walls, shiny glass coffee tables, a mini bar in the corner, comfy looking sofas; I would love to live here. Snap out of it! Stop admiring and listen to the conversation! This has to work!

"Hello?"

….

"Oh my gosh! Are you okay!?"

……

"Oh thank goodness!"

…….

"Yes! I'll be there soon dear! Love you. Yeah. Kay. Bye."

Hang up.

Footsteps coming my way, you got this; you got her right in your trap. Watch her walk right out the front door. She didn't even see me.

"Hey! I gotta go pick my boyfriend from work! I'll have to get you those tools later….huh? He's gone? Whatever."

Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl!

Yep.

Close that door.

Yes.

Lock it too.

Stroke it; hold it, just one more second.

Now turn the fuck around!

She gasps, but I've already advanced.

"N—"

My stinger punctures her right below the stomach, at about bush level. Her pupils dilate and she falls to the ground. No time to scream or yelp, huh Cream? What's the matter? Nothing to say?

Mother always told me to use my more "natural" talents to get ahead in life. This works. For the longest time I didn't even know I had this gift. You see, my stinger is so big that with one thrust I can render a person unconscious. From there, I can have my way with them.

I love doing things my way.

Now where are those tools?

The kitchen is literally spotless. The rabbit must be a regular house wife. Must have been. Hehe. I wonder; could she cook? I bet her blowjobs were shit. Her sexual talents would be lacking, of course. I like them better unconscious, anyway.

But where did she say? Ah yes, under the sink! Very typical of any average person really. Kneel down. Open the white cabinets and observe my treasure. Pliers, a monkey wrench, a deadbolt cutter, duct tape; this will do nicely.

Standing back up, I pick up the bag and sling it over my shoulder. I need one more thing though.

Heh. The knife set is right by the microwave, stainless steel, and as I pull out the butcher, it makes a slinking sound, like the unsheathing of a sword.

Now I'm back in the living room. Time to get to work.

Set my tools next to her, and lean down. Breathe in. She sure smells like flowers. Plant my lips on hers. Really wish there was more time. Stroking her ears back, and kissing the neck up to the side of her face, I fumble on the floor next to her for the knife. Lick her ear.

She's already dead, but I slice her throat, just in case. The blade wedging itself into her thick, furry epidermis. Blood leaking out on both sides of the blade. Start at the bottom, and slice my way to the top, having to hack at it again at each hang up. The crimson river spilling out on the tan carpet. It really lightens the mood.

Take off her dress. Or, cut off, rather. No sense wasting time. Good. Slide her panties all the way down her smooth, long legs and off the end of her tiny feet. Wonderful. She isn't wearing a bra. It's not like she really has tits anyway. They're smaller than I thought they would be. Almost nonexistent. Now make a long straight cut from her breastbone to her pussy. Rip the skin back and now she's an open book. Break the two lower ribs with the deadbolt cutters. The sweet, sickening crack fills my ears twice. The lungs look healthy. She was a good girl at least. A real good girl. Cute. Now extract them. It'll take a little bit of strength but not much. If you have trouble, break more ribs.

The pancreas and liver are easy though. Same with the stomach, esophagus, larynx, and the intestines. Easy cuts. Real simple, like lifting pasta out of a bowl.

I got all the major organs, or the most needed ones. For right now I'll put them on the glass coffee table. I need to go clean up. Wash my gloves.

The cool water cleans my hands. Luckily I got no blood on my shoes or face. I'm sort of hungry. I'll check the pantry. She might have some good shit to eat.

Her doors are really loud though. This one creaks like a bitch. Heh, or gets her organs removed like one. Hm? Perfect. A cooler for them. Walk over to the freezer, check for ice? Plenty of it. This could be the greatest day of my life. I think it took me a couple of minutes to fill it up with ice, and it's not very heavy either.

Roll it back into the living room and pack the goods tightly. They have to stay cold or you're fucked. My boss hates botches. He kicked my ass for it last time.

If you want you can pluck the teeth out with some pliers. I just did and again, strength really isn't a issue. Get a knife for the harder ones. Slide the very tip in between the gum line and the tooth itself. Tap the hilt of the knife hard, hammering the blade as far as you can up the root. Twist and turn the fucker to pry out to tooth. Try not to lose it down the bitch's throat. That happens sometimes.

I use the teeth for my own enjoyment, but if you don't have a fetish like me, you can sell them as aphrodisiacs. No, really. No bullshit. Women think with the right tooth powder, that oral sex or blowjobs will be much more satisfying for their respective partners. A good lie can you get some nice cash. The mind will believe what it wants.

I usually just put the teeth in my pocket.

Now for the finale.

I strike a match and toss it in the doorway. Burn this place down, and cast my crime to ashes.

I like not getting caught. It kicks ass.

Running, I take the stairs at the end of the hallway five flights is easy for me, even with a cooler in tow.

In about a minute I'm on the street.

Just another day at the office.

Right?

Dialing…245-691-0906

"Yeah?"

"I'm meeting up with you, got a good shipment this time. I know it has been awhile boss."

"Perfect. Fine. I'll be outside the strip club on eighth, meet me in the back."

"On my way."

* * *

It's been a couple of hours. Cream better get here soon. I'm started to get a little worried and really ticked off.

Better call a fucking taxi.

* * *

"I love this office and I love my job."

"Yeah…me, too, Knux."

"You want to grab a drink in a couple of hours? Down at Hex?"

"Nah, let's go to Peers. I busted six or seven people at Hex last week. People hate me there."

"All right Sonic, that sounds good. Six O'clock?"

"Excellent. Look, I got to get back to work."

"Still busting guys and whores at four o'clock in the afternoon?"

"Always! Sex, alcoholism and drugs never sleep man!"

"Yeah but people sleep together all the time, and it's usually because of sex and drugs and drinking."

"Good point."

"I'm full of them."

"See you later Knuckles."

"Peace out, be careful."

"You too."

"Har har. Very funny."

* * *

Sonic is a great undercover cop. I don't know if many people know he is one, to me, he's that good. He arrested Amy, an old friend, with heroin. He actually went out with her and then proceeded to nick her! He's a bastard who loves his a job a little too much. But he was nice to Amy though, sent her to a great rehab center, and she's almost back to normal.

Robotnik died and we still live on as heroes. Well, me and Sonic anyway.

I'm a detective. I usually deal with triple homicides and rape victims. Makes you realize how petrified you can be, and how lucky you are. Anyone can be murdered at any time; I'm surprised it hasn't happen to me yet. The days do drag sometime though. I haven't gotten a good case in awhile. Times are slow and painful. Makes me wonder if I am going to get any action this month.

Ringringringringringring! Ringringringringringring!

"Hello?"

"Knuckles!?"

God, whoever this is freaked out. Sounds interesting though.

"This is he. What can I do you for?"

"This is Tails. You need to get the fuck over here. Like, now. Right now. Now!"

Tails? Haven't heard from him in a long ass time. Wonder what he wants?

"How you doin' buddy?"

"God damn it, you asshole! My car was on fire and my apartment just was too!"

"Didn't the fire department take care of that?"

I really need to fix my extension number, one off from the firemen, a simple mistake, and I get called all the time about fires.

"Well yeah, my apartment is practically fine, but…."

"Yeah?"

"My girlfriend is dead. She's fucking dead!!"

"Cream? Oh man, I'm sorry to hear about that. Fires do kill a lot of peo—"

"Her fucking organs were cut out, man! They were just fucking gone!"

"—ple and….wait? What?"

"Her body is cut open! Her throat too! And there is blood all over the place!"

"Tails, tell me where you live. Now."

"Mountainside Apartments off Carner Street. Room 5223, fifth floor. Please hurry man, this is so fucked up."

"Just calm down bud. I'll be there soon. We'll nail this bastard hard."

He says something else, but I just hang up the phone.

Me and my big mouth huh? The last week has been a nice vacation, and now I'm in some heavy shit. I take the scotch flask out of my trench coat and take hard swig. I shudder. Strong stuff, it burns your face off. I can't face this job nervously, so I drink a little bit to calm my psyche, slow down time if you will.

Better get over there fast, they'll need me.

I grab my keys and head for the door.

It's hard not to think about what Tails said though.

Her organs were removed from her body. I would say that's a new one, but there have been reports on guys doing this for money. But it's been about a year since it last happened.

But I know Cream, knew her… Cream had never hurt anybody. Why the hell would someone murder her?

All I know is that I'm going to find out.

* * *

Eighth is always barren this early in the day. No cars or people, the only cars are in the strip club parking lot.

I'm not much of one for strippers. I like innocence and untouchable beauty. Like that stupid rabbit bitch. They're no fun when they want it.

She felt good to cut, and sting, and dissect.

Wheeling the cooler behind this strip club is just asking for cops, but the police are horrible in this city.

Stupid fuckers couldn't catch me if they tried.

People regard me as a little kid. I'm too innocent, too weak to commit to a real job. Wrong, everyone is wrong. It makes me want to come clean. Just so I can see the look on their faces when they realize who cut open these people.

"You finally here?"

Boss man steps from the shadows. A long sun hat, a huge white tank top, yellow board shorts; he looks like a beach bum.

"Got the shit you wanted? Check it up."

Slowly, he paces to the cooler, and opens it. He inhales loudly through his nose and then starts digging through the ice. The next thing I know, he smiles widely. A twisted grin that shivers just about anybody. Except me that is. I could kill if I wanted to, but he's too valuable.

"This is great Charmy. You've done a wonderful job."

To hear that from Big is great. For an overweight purple cat who likes to fish, he sure is smart, and knows black-market trades better than anyone. That slow talking shit? All an act to fool people and it works beautifully. We're both underrated Mobians.

"Thanks boss. I'll keep it going. How much do I get from this? I really want to know."

"A couple of kilos. Or I could give you the street value…your pick. Like always."

I already know what I want. I just ran out of it and that's the only reason why I came out of retirement.

"Give me the coke."

"But of course."

The light toss of a blue backpack, I snatch it out of the air. And even through the bag I can smell my prize. That strong odor. Smells like good shit,

"Thanks boss, hit me up if you got a client, or we'll do it like we did it today."

"Surely. These organs will sell wonderfully. You're as a good as I am."

"Well, you fucking taught me, you bastard."

"That I did."

"See you around, I gotta run."

"Goodbye Charmy."

* * *

With these bug-like wings, I'm as fast as Sonic. You know the bitch undercover cop? Yeah, well he tried to bust me one time, and I got away. Tried to ask me if he could come over and hang out. See? People think I'm dumb. I changed apartments and phone numbers. And now no one even knows where I am.

See? I'm already home. The docks aren't actually too far from the strip club. A couple of miles at most. Took me about a minute to get here.

Three flights of stairs and I'm in my loft. I clear off the coffee table. This place is a fucking mess. But I don't care. I don't fucking care about it.

Right now is for the shit.

* * *

The rabbit's teeth are placed on the cutting board. My tack hammer comes down.

BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM

Tooth powder. Now mix the fucking cocaine, you prick. Pour it on the table. Excellent. Make sure to get it extra fine. That's how you do it. Got some pens, hollowed them out a long fucking time ago. Enamel and fucking coke. I don't how I came up with it, but it helps me remember the victims I slay. Times to remember. God, sniff it up you bitch, you fucking cunt.

SNRRRRTTTT SNRRRTTTTTTT

Fuck me yes god damnit you are the greatest bee in the world you fucking awesome bastard, rape next time though, no organs, you have to change it up, give you something to fucking _deal_ with, let the people know you ain't just arson and knives, _scare_ them, baby, live this shit like the day man, live this the fuck up, you do this right you know, fucking vector and espio and shit and mighty and all those bitches who didn't think i could do jack fuck, fuck fuck that

takethetimetorememebrwhatyouredoingheremancalmthefuckdown.

* * *

A couple of hours and I'm back to normal.

This is what dreams are made of. Right?

Right?

Right?

Right?

Right?

Right?

Thanks Mom, thanks Dad.

Another?

I have nowhere to fucking be, and nobody to fucking care about.

SNRRRRTTTT SNRRRTTTTTTT

Ilikethishsitiremindsmeofflowersandflowerssmellgood

D o y o u li ke f lowers?

I l o v v v v v e e e e e e th-em.


	2. Retrospect

**Retrospect**

* * *

**Amy**

Have you ever loved someone?  
Let me finish.  
Have you ever loved someone so much that you didn't think they would ever turn on you? No matter what? I have. Blind love, I think they call it.  
Sonic was "retired", living off endorsements. His face was on serial boxes and sneakers. He has his own food chain. Action figure. Plush doll. Video games. Action films he doesn't even star in or watch. Money just gets dumped on top of him. So, why work? That's what he wants you to think, because he's a disgusting prick. A soulless asshole. I've never hated a man I love so much. Do you have any idea what this is like?  
Heroin. Addiction. Is this a reason to lock a person up? I was never a mean person. Never tried to hurt anyone. Never had to steal. Never whored myself out. Never had to break any moral standards to get drugs. But I'm a bad person? They tell me I'm sick, and they lock me up so I can get 'better'?  
Sometimes I cry. It feels like for no reason. Just for being alive and in here. Makes me kind of wish I hadn't taken the slow route. It's not like any of this matters.  
What Sonic doesn't understand is that I loved him. I would have done anything for him, including quitting heroin. I've done it before, and staying on the shit wouldn't be worth losing someone you care so deeply for, you know? But he never asked. He never wanted me off the junk. He never said shit. It was like he didn't care. He would watch me do it. Study.  
Then he would fuck me. Without asking, he would just fuck me. Climbing on top of me, tearing open my blouse. Hiking up my skirt. He would fuck me, and I couldn't say or do anything about it. Just take it. It isn't like I cared. Being in love with the piece of shit, and all.  
Suddenly he's booking me. He fucked me in both senses of the word. From both ends, so to speak. Told me they were going light on me, because he loved me. Told me he wanted me to get better. Told me he wanted me to clean up.  
Me.  
Who's really filthy here? Who really needs to "clean up" around here, I wonder?  
He just threw me into a cell, physically dependant on a substance and strictly deprived of it. Do you know what that's like? For the first couple of days, they don't even talk to you. They just leave you in a room all by yourself. Suffering off withdrawal symptoms. Extreme nausea. Headaches pounding. Constant vomiting. Diarrhea. Insomnia. You can't even fucking sleep through the madness. Hours of waking constant suffering. A nightmare that you want to end, but it won't. Not for days.  
And they don't even help you out. They don't give you any medicine. Bring you any water when you need it, unless it's lunch time. They don't do shit. You're swimming in your own sweat, soaked in a smelly blanket. Begging for a new one.  
No response.  
This is rehabilitation?  
Isolation?  
Suffering?  
Constantly screaming for help. Screaming nonsense. Just sounds. Just wishing it would go away. Wishing I would die. Something. Just please end this torture.  
All the while, I'm cursing Sonic's name. Wishing he was dead. Wishing there was some way I could get back at him. Wishing there was some way to make him suffer as I've suffered. But I can't.  
It doesn't seem possible. Looks like I have to suck it up. Looks like he wins.  
Oh well.

* * *

Words can't describe how I feel right now. Empty doesn't quite measure up. I'm in the negatives right now. Never felt like this before. It isn't pleasant.  
There is an atmosphere in this room. Despair hangs around us like a fog. Do they feel the same way? Maybe it's just me.  
My skin isn't comfortable. Living in a constant state of discontent. This is the first time I've been around other people, and it doesn't feel right. Then again, it didn't feel right when I was alone, either.  
I just want to feel normal again. Just want to feel okay.  
Have you ever been in a state of physical or mental discomfort? The feeling of helplessness s that washes over you when you take a bad hit of salvia, or too many mushrooms, and you realize that nothing can be done to make you feel okay again. You just have to ride it out.  
But the thing with mushrooms and salvia is the fact that you can. You don't feel like you can, but you do within an hour or so. I've been trying to ride this feeling out for a week. When I said constant, that's just what was meant. Constant.

"Hello and welcome."

Murmurs from all around me. About five or so different greetings. I just shift uncomfortably in my chair, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. Trying my damnedest not to think of a needlepoint slowly entering the vein in my arm. Pulling back the plunger slightly, drawing just a tiny bit of blood, mixing it with the substance.  
Trying my very hardest not to thing about pushing down that plunger. Attempting my very best not to thing about that rush that you can't get any other way. That amazing rush.

"We have some newcomers here, today. Vernon, you know the routine. Why don't you start us off today?"

A gray fox takes the spotlight, so to speak. We're all sitting in a circle. He doesn't even stand up, but all the attention is turned to him. He clears his throat and scratches his ear. Someone coughs. The gray fox sits up strait, and starts to speak.

"Hello, my name is Vernon"

The voice is extremely monotone. Like he's reading off a cue card.

"Hi Vernon"

Those voices are flat, too. Kind of sounds like… defeat.

"I'm a recovering alcoholic. After losing my wife and kids over drinking, I got so bad it landed me in the hospital a couple of times. Doctors said they didn't think I was going to make it. Said they were sure I was going to die. A miracle, they called it. Me just being alive, a miracle. A miracle I didn't drink myself to death. They told me I should never drink again. Did that stop me? No. On my way home for a bar one night, I was out of cash. No taxi. No buses were running. Didn't want to walk home, because I didn't want to get arrested. You know how the police are around here. Any chance to put you away for something small, they take. Public intoxication charges are brutal, so I decided to drive home. Thought I was okay, you know? It wasn't far, but I…. I pulled out without my lights on and I hit someone."

He's breaking. It's only a matter of time for each of his. You can hear it in his voice. It's almost like he's about to cry, or something.

"A little girl" he said "had run away from home that night. I ran over a nine year old little girl outside of a bar at three in the morning. She's currently paralyzed from the neck down. I have to live with that, now. Sober. Been sober for a couple of months now. It's been a long time."

"Thank you, Vernon. Everyone, let's give Vernon a hand, for being so brave for us today."

And we're clapping for him. People telling him how brave he is, and telling him how good he's doing. Telling him it will be okay, when it clearly won't. Words of comfort that add up to just that; words.

"Newcomer, why don't you share a little bit about yourself now?"

He's looking at me. The thing is, I have to talk. If I don't talk, than it takes me much longer to get out of here. Much longer. These doctors, or whatever, have a say at when I go. There's no set date, it's just their evaluation. When we're 'cured' we get to leave.

So, I shift in my chair some more, and try to gain composure.

"My name is Amy Rose, and I'm in here for heroin."

"Hi Amy."

"Uh.. hi."

"Why don't you tell us a little more?"

"Okay, I guess. Uh. I'm seventeen years old. Turn eighteen soon. I've been doing heroin for years now, since I was thirteen. My dad used to have me prepare his points. Started doing that at about five or six. It wasn't like it was rocket science. Sometimes I'd even help him shoot it. After pulling the needle out of his arm, I would wonder where it was he went. His body was right there, but he seemed so far away. As if on some sort of vacation from life. A break, maybe. I always wanted to go with him on break. On vacation. It got lonely when he left me. That needle took him so far away that he wasn't the same anymore. I wanted to go, too. It wasn't fair that I be left behind to clean everything up all the time. So, I brought it up. Told him I wanted to go with him. He didn't understand. I pointed to the needle. Said I don't like it when he leaves me. Told him I didn't want him to leave me again. He smiled at me, and fixed my first point. Thirteen years old, and my dad takes me on vacation. Only difference for him, was he didn't come back."

My voice is breaking. It's there, but I can't do anything about it. I have to stop.

"I can't do this right now" I say.

Covering my eyes. Fighting back the tears.

"That's okay, Amy. You don't have to. Let's all give Amy a hand"

And everyone is clapping for me and telling me I'm brave. Telling me it's going to be okay. Shoving comfort up my nose. Trying to make me feel better, when I can't.  
Physically and mentally unable.  
The cat next to me, he lights a cigarette.

"We can smoke in here?"

"Yeah."

"Can I have one of those?"

"Get your own"

And that's when I can't take it anymore. As hard as I try not to, I just start bawling.  
Bawling my eyes out. Sobbing loudly and uncontrollably.  
I've never felt this hopeless before. Never hated myself and my life so much. Never once would have rather been dead before now. Now I just kind of wish I could join my daddy.

On permanent vacation.

Everyone's still focused on me.

* * *

The phone is ringing. Hoping, praying even that the only person I know to call answers.

"Hello?"

"Hey Rouge"

My only friend. The only person I have any ties to whatsoever; at least on an emotional level.

"You know these calls are expensive right?"

Light a cigarette. Try to swallow the lump in my throat.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, I really hate to put you through this."

A sigh.

"It's okay, hon. What do you need?"

"Could you come visit me tomorrow? For lunch?"

"I don't know, Amy. It's a long way out there. I'll see what I can do."

"I understand."

"Do you want me to bring you anything specific?"

"I don't know. A book, maybe."

"Which one?"

"I don't know. I don't care. Anything to take me away."

* * *

She's holding a small stack of books under her arm. Walking my direction. She sits at the table, across from me. Slides the books my way.

"These are all I could get, but I imagine it will hold you over until I can get more."

"Thanks. This is too much, really."

"It's fine. Did you need me to come down for any particular reason? Or was it just books?"

"I'm lonely, Rouge. Aren't we friends?"

"Of course."

"I don't know. I feel empty since getting here."

"How do you mean?"

"I need to get out of here, Rouge. Every day in here is torment."

"You'll get better soon enough, Amy"

"Don't feed me that shit. I didn't bring you down here to talk like the doctors around here. I get enough of that."

"Look, if you want me to leave-"

"No!"

Grab her blouse as she goes to stand up. She just stares at me.

"Please don't leave me here. Just stay for a little while. Please."

She sits back down.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay" she says. She tells me everything is going to be fine.

Goes right back to feeding me false solace.  
Oh well. At least I'm not alone anymore.  
For now.

* * *

"Hi. My name is Amy, and I'm a recovering heroin addict."

"Hi Amy"

"I've been sober for about a month now."

Applause. More forced comfort.

"Do you have anything else you would like to share with us?"

Hmm…

Sure. Why not?

"Last night I had a dream that I was in a swimming pool. You know, swimming around. The only thing is that the pool wasn't filled with water. And it wasn't empty. It was filled with needles. Filled needles and used needles. Heroin needles. Not sure why I was swimming in the pool filled with syringes in the first place, but there I was. Every stroke, every movement. Intensified. A mixture of pain and pleasure so unreal that it couldn't be real. My earliest memory was landing. Landing face first in the needles, I shielded my face. Hundreds of points ripping through my skin at awkward angles. Skin tearing in agony, but the agony's venom is numbing. Suddenly I'm higher than I've ever been before, swimming in a pool of syringes that I can't even feel. The pool starts to grow in size rapidly, the syringes spilling out to fill the new barriers. Syringes start to rain down into the pool to fill it, but the pool just keeps getting bigger. It never starts to grow. Syringes wash over me, burying me under a pile too quickly to avoid. Head under, it gets harder to breathe. The euphoric sensation replaced with complete fear and helplessness. Pain. Acceptance never washed over me, even as my death did. After I died, no one cared. No one missed me. I just kind of…. disappeared. Then I woke up."

They just stare at me. No applause. No comfort. No remarks.

They just stare.

* * *

**Big**

Charmy Bee. Now, there's an interesting character. Must admit, I'm somewhat attached to the little prick. He's almost like a son to me. Sort of. An adopted one, I should say. Couldn't tell you how old he was when we first met.  
His theft caught my eye. Literally. Saw the little fucker break into a car and get the radio out in less than a minute. Took him about roughly thirty seconds. No bullshit. No fooling around. Just got in, got the fuck out and bounced.  
This was back when I was dealing petty amounts of cocaine, and a good deal of pot. Pot's small time. Cocaine sells itself. Hard to find and on high demand. Pot's everywhere. People can easily grow it by themselves, and at mass quantity. You happen to be looking at the only retailer for cocaine in Station Square.  
Charmy. Right. Met him a few nights after I saw him steal the radio. I told him he did a good job, and he was a little more than confused. Frightened, even. After calming him down, I offered him some cocaine. The idea is to get them hooked. They try it. They like it. They come back.  
Charmy liked it. A lot. Got so bad, he was running out of easy theft targets. Pick me ups. He had to resort to other measures to attain the money for the substance. Word on the street was that he charged eighty for a blowjob. That's funny, because he only charged me a gram.  
Okay, so that makes me less like his adopted father, and more like the sick uncle who diddled him for money. Whatever. Let's just drop it.  
I didn't want to see the kid go out like that. It was hard for me. I couldn't even finish. Not even with myself, after he left with the blow. The coke, I mean. Not the… well, you know. I'm confusing myself. Hold on, a second.  
SSNNNNRRRTTT SNRRRRTTTTT  
Better. Where was I?  
Right. Charmy was a good kid. Is a good kid.  
SNNRT  
Didn't want to see him go out like that. Asked him if he was interested in a little organ trade. He said he wanted to keep all of his, and I told him I could give a shit where he got them from. He caught on quickly. He was always a smart kid, you know? I always liked him.  
SNRT.

Ooooh


End file.
